


Obligation

by JeromeSankara



Category: The Last of Us, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Death, First Kiss, Heartbreaking, Infected, Last Kiss, M/M, Revenge, Rickyl Writers' Group
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 08:21:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10715730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeromeSankara/pseuds/JeromeSankara
Summary: It wasn't supposed to end like this. But you have to continue on without me.





	Obligation

**Author's Note:**

> Heavily based off of the amazing video game The Last of Us (2013), possibly the greatest game ever made.

_"Son of a bitch!"_

Thick black slime exploded from the temple of the walker that had been tussling against the hunter, jaws now finally stilled, red still glistening against its teeth from its previous prey.

The rotting corprse was thrown to the ground, and only then could he look up to the one who had killed his enemy; Rick. His Colt Python was faintly shivering in his hand from stress, his face pale. He looked halfway dead as he stood in the hall, surrounded by a dozen walkers that they had tried to kill stealthily. They had gotten the first few down, but then the wooden floor fell through, and Daryl got stuck, and...

Immediately Daryl closed his vest tightly around his body, ignoring the black spray against his chest, tinged with red. He will deal with that later, but now, Rick needed him. Again.

"Hey, Rick- Rick, it's okay!" was the soft plea for the officer to return to the present, gazing into the emptiness of the pale blue eyes. Daryl hated it when Rick went to that place in his head, when teeth snapped too close to either of them...

Large hands grabbed onto his shoulders and gave him a quick shake. There was no time to be gentle about this. They had to leave. NOW.

Thankfully, Rick came back to him, taking in a gasping breath and letting it out in a series of coughs. Any time to let him come to his senses was decapitated as the hunter grabbed onto Rick's wrist, yanking him away from the carnage that littered the collapsing floor.

It was supposed to be the easiest way through the desolate city, the path they were told to take. Turns out that nothing was going to be easy for them.

The hunter wouldn't allow them to stop until they were safely outside the collapsing building, whatever supplies they had scavaged tossing about in their bags. They ran out of their packed food days ago, and water was scarce. They had to scavage whenever possible, even in the most dangerous of situations.

There was nowhere to hunt in the city. Any tracks he managed to find lead to a mangled corpse, already taken down hours before. Water was lacking, and they were constantly plunging into toilet bowls for whatever lingered at the bottom of the tank.

The amount of destruction, though, was devastating.

It had been hit by the bombs the military had dropped at point blank range. Skyscrapers were teetering on the edge, roads open out to chasms that would kill if you fell, and there was the constant feeling of dread. So many people were killed so early in the apocalypse... And now they roamed freely again.

They ran past an old museum, then a bank, and what was left of a convenience store. It was already empty, as if the caved in roof didn't already hint to nothing being salvagable. They had tried, at first. They would rummage through the debris for a few cans of food, but whatever was left had been smashed and rotten by now.

It's been... years, after all.

Only once they ducked into a stable-looking building did they give themselves to catch their breaths. The daylight only made them more vulnerable if they took a rest. Walkers weren't the only ones following their trail.

But they were exhausted. Just a few minutes was all they needed.

Finding an old couch that wasn't completely eaten by rats, the two worn men plopped down, still catching their breath. It was silent around them. It was always silent. They didn't need to talk at times like this. A side glance to the bag and Daryl was already taking out the half-empty water bottle, handing it to Rick first.

Almost immediately he was given a glare, only to give one back.

Rick needed to look after himself. He took the water first. Daryl was use to this.

The officer eventually accepted, tilting the bottle back and carefully gulping down just a mouthful. He didn't dare let a little flow out. Every drop was precious. Daryl watched Rick's adam apple bob with the swallow, and he couldn't help but do the same. His hand reached up and grabbed at the collar of his vest, feeling it grow wet.

The hunter exchanged a few pieces of jerky for the water and took a quick swig himself, but when Rick wasn't looking, emptied the water back into the bottle. He couldn't take any more of their limited supplies. Rick was already wrestling with a particularly tough piece, gnawing at it like a wild animal. Daryl almost laughed.

But the slow, burning pain stopped it.

Daryl stood up first, allowing Rick to eat whatever he could off the aged jerky. Stepping to the broken window they had slipped in from, he took a quick glance about.

Still empty. Were they even going the right way?

A glance to the right and he let out a soft breath of relief. The capital building was close. They were finally getting close. They were so close he could practically taste it...

A prod came to his shoulder, and the hunter spun around in the midst of a snarl. His hand had grabbed his vest, pulling it harshly closed against his body, to the point of near strangulation, but instead of an enemy, it was just Rick. His eyebrows rose at the sight of Daryl being spooked so easily, but instead decided to shove a handful of jerky into the hunter's face, as if Rick would force feed him if he didn't accept. All he did was grunt before taking one piece. It would keep Rick happy.

He gnawed on it while Rick slipped out of the window, gun raised, but they both knew that there was only three bullets left. Daryl reached back instinctually to his shoulder, only to feel the relief of touching the strings of his crossbow and the ragged feathers on the arrows. He needed to make more.

His other hand was still twisted into his vest, yanking it close to his body. He could still feel the blood.

Only once Rick had glanced back and jerked his head in the direction of the capital did he finally step out of the broken pane of glass, hearing it crumble beneath his boots. They were both so tired that they barely bothered with keeping quiet with small noises like that. They just needed to go a little farther.

Daryl only gave himself enough time to swallow the small jerky he had taken before they were running again.

Their legs were throbbing with pain, Daryl had a bit of a limp from the incident with the walkers, but he forced himself through the stabbing pain. They were so close...!

By the time that they were within sprinting distance to the grand marble steps, they were panting and heaving, but somehow picked up their pace. So close. After so long. After so many losses. They finally...!

Daryl slammed into the door first, which came with the cold realization that it had been cracked open. He was the one that stumbled in first, but it wasn't until he heard Rick gasp behind him did he finally look up.

...Bodies.

So many bodies.

The blood was still dripping down the walls and pillars, the bodies still in heaps not yet cooled. Their heads were reduced to pulp, now in chunky bits on the tile.

His heart turned to ice and dropped out of his body, and then it caught his eyes.

"...No, n-no no no...!"

Daryl stumbled forward, now heavily limping, one hand clutching his vest and the other reaching desperately forward. It nearly touched the pools of blood, but his trembling hand managed to yank it before it could be devistated any more. The thin fabric felt like bricks in his hand, barely managing to keep a grip on it as he spun it around and stared at the deputy star that adorned the hat.

Carl's hat.

They were too late. Again.

One knee gave out, and the other followed without much hesitation, making the hunter kneel into the pools of lukewarm blood. His fingers twisted into his vest, clawing into it.

This couldn't be how it ends...

"...Daryl. ...Daryl come... come here."

It was the croak of a voice that came behind him that made his head spin around, his vision already beginning to swim with tears.

Rick was standing beside him now, and he could see the trembling of his shoulders and his face twisted, but his eyes... They looked down to him, and he could see the plea.

"Daryl, it's... It's time to..."

"To give up?!"

The snarl that broke through the hunter took himself by surprise, but so did the sudden heave to get to his feet. He was now standing toe to toe with the officer, eyes locked in a conflict of pain and weariness. But he could'nt... Couldn't look into those eyes. The softness, the compassion, the attempt at warmth to ease the hunter. It was too much.

"T-There has to be a note or something. A map. A clue." Daryl was back to his knees, dropping the hat beside him and clear of the blood before frantically searching the closest body. There was a gun, a spent bullet, and blood. He went to the next. A necklace in the pocket, an empty magazine, and more blood.

Next body. A broken watch. Blood.

Next body. An empty bottle in his bag. Blood.

Next body. Blood.

Next.

Blood.

Blood.

Next, blood, next... blood, next-

_"Daryl!"_

The commanding voice of an officer rang in his ears and echoed throughout the spacious room. His body cringed, and his hand twisted back into the vest. It hurt... So much blood...

An arm managed to hook beneath his own, and he was unceremoniously yanked to his feet. He refused to look back at Rick, not when he was scanning each of the bodies again. Anything to leave them a clue...!

"Daryl, how far are we going to take this?!"

_"As far as it needs to go!"_

A firm hand grabbed against his chin, jerking his head back to meet the emptying blue eyes. They were becoming cold again... He knew what that meant. Rick was making the decisions now, and he will not take no for an answer.

But he didn't understand...!

The officer stared deep into his eyes, and the surrounding world turned to silence. All that was there was Rick. Just Rick, staring deep inside of him and wrenching out every bit of his will. His knees felt weak and his body trembled within his grasp. He couldn't be this close, but he couldn't escape...!

"Daryl, we tried. We did everything we could. But look at us. You are skin and bones and I'm not much better. We've lost everyone. Michonne, Maggie, Carol, Jesus... Daryl, I can't do this anymore."

The words broke at the end, and so did Daryl. Yet Rick managed to hold back his tears. "...I can't let him take you away, too. And I know you are smarter than this. We have to-"

"Really?"

The hunter grabbed onto Rick's wrists and began to pull, trying to unhook his iron grip from his body. He refused to get pulled away, not when they were so close...! Tears were slipping down his cheeks, but it only fueled anger to surge within him. Rick didn't understand what he was doing anymore.

"Guess what, Rick, we're shitty people. It's been that way for a long time!"

"No, we are survivors!"

"This is our chance-"

_"It is over, Daryl!"_

The shout practically shook the building and it stunned the hunter into silence. The hands tightened onto him painfully, grabbing onto his jaw and edging near his shoulders. Their breaths were caught in their throats as Rick's eyes widened, as if now realizing just what he was saying. But he wouldn't change his mind.

The hands became softer, as if needing to be reminded of just who he was holding. They slipped down to the sides of his neck, the fingers turning gentle to not put pressure against his scarred skin. But now they were burning against his body.

"...Now we tried. Let's go home."

The hands released him without another word, and the officer stooped down to pick up the dusty hat. He barely allowed himself a glance, as if he had already come to accept the death of his son. It was hard to hold onto hope in this world, and now Daryl knew why. The officer turned his back to him, and took a few steps away, only to glance back questioning when Daryl didn't follow.

He swallowed. So hard that he nearly choked himself on a sob that was threatening to breach him, yet he forced himself to remain steady.

"...I'm not going anywhere. This is my last stop."

Rick let out a sigh. He turned his gaze to the ground and closed his eyes, as if trying to reign in his patience.

How many times did he have to explain this until Daryl finally understood...? He knew the hunter was stubborn, but to be so pathetically headstrong at a time like this...

"...What?" he said with a sigh, and gazed up to the hunter with a haunting gaze that looked twice as old as the man that held it. It made the hunter flinch, but then stiffened his body again.

Daryl sucked in a breath and he prayed for the words to help Rick understand...

"Our luck... it had to run out sooner or later..."

"What are you going on about-"

The hand, the one that managed to be firm and gentle with the hunter all at the same time, reached out for him. Reaching for his shoulder, to give a comforting touch, as if that was all he needed. But all it did was make everything worse.

He flinched back, his hand twisting and turning into the leather of his vest, yanking it to the point of fearing that it would rip. The hunter stumbled back several steps, his boots splashing in the blood. But Rick didn't faulter.

Instead he reached out further and grabbed hard onto the hand twisted so firmly into the vest-

...only to jerk away.

Daryl knew now. He barely had to look up to see the color draining out of Rick's face, the weak light beginning to die in his eyes. His hand was outstretched still, shaking. Rick couldn't look away even if he wanted to.

All he could see was his fingers now coated in bright, warm blood.

The eyes went back to him, practically burning into his skull. Rick's mouth fell open, but not a word came out. Just an agonizing silence as everything fell into place.

Then the officer came back.

"...Let me see it." It was scarcely above a murmur, an eerie calmness cloaking his voice.

"I-I didn't mean to-"

_"Show it to me."_

The stern tone only made the hunter back up another step, then froze him. The tone was too familiar, too close. It was an order, and there will be consequences for disobeying. Numbing fingers fumbled against his vest, before he slowly peeled off the left side, which held no mark, then finally the right.

The vest dropped onto the ground, landing with such a thud that it shattered the silence with a boom.

Neither one of them breathed. They were frozen. Daryl stared into the eyes of a broken man as they stared down to the nape of his neck, the fabric of his shirt scratched away and revealed the bleeding imprints of walker teeth. Blood was leaking down from the edges and had soaked his dirty undershirt on the right side, having only barely been hidden beneath his vest.

All it took was one moment of his focus slipping. When he had looked back to make sure Rick was alright. To make sure his only reason for existence would be able to fight another day. It was a moment that had needed no words, when Rick had dispatched a walker with ease before his eyes grew wide.

The walker had collided with him, and that was it. The fingers had torn in enough to expose enough flesh, and it was all over. But he hid it.

He hid it because he didn't want to die yet. He just needed a few more hours. Maybe even a day. Whatever he could manage to hold onto.

Rick stumbled back harshly as realization finally hit him, his hands grasping at his peppering brown hair, streaking it with Daryl's blood. "Oh, Christ..." was all he could say. What else was there to say?

Daryl's hands fell to his sides, his body turning to lead when all he wanted was to touch Rick, to hold him, to try to tell him it was alright... That he wasn't afraid. That all he wanted was-

_"They're in the capital!"_

The voice on the other side of the doors commanded their attention, their heads snapping to the double doors. They had been found. They should have realized that they would still be close, the kills so fresh, the blood still warm...!

It was then that a strange feeling swarmed into his body, as if new breath had been pushed into him. There was still something he could do.

Already his hands were flinging down to his vest and yanking it off of the ground, only to snatch up Carl's hat. The items were thrust into Rick's stunned hands who only just managed to grab a hold of them.

"I can buy you some time, but you have to go."

Almost immediately Rick began to protest. Daryl already expected that. "I-I'm not leaving you!"

"No! You have to go!"

His crossbow was thrown off of his shoulders and into the mess of bloody fabric that Rick barely managed to keep within his arms. The stammering continued from the officer, but he could already hear the vehicles pulling up outside. Their voices were getting louder.

They had no time.

"Rick!" he snapped, his bloodied hands reaching forward and cupped the sides of his face, forcing his attention back to the hunter. Their eyes locked like so many times before, and a lifetime of words wouldn't be enough to explain what they felt. He could see it all.

"There has to be enough here... that you have some sort of obligation to me. You go find Carl. Find him and bring him home."

More voices were coming, louder, telling them to grab their weapons, that they knew they were in there.

"I-I can fight-"

Suddenly Daryl lunged forward, doing what he had wished to do for years. He managed to catch the officers lips, his fingers clenching against his unkept beard to hold him there. Just for him. This was all he needed before he was ready to die.

It wasn't a romantic kiss, but it said more than they ever could. Bitter pain of their separation, but a promise that Daryl intended to keep. He will never leave Rick.

And as he finally felt the officer give into him and join in the heated kiss, he knew that Rick felt the same.

They didn't need words.

They just needed each other.

But it ended too soon, not as the men were running up the marble steps that they had been on mere minutes ago. Daryl had to use all his strength to force himself back, but refused to leave the crystal blue eyes, the only ones that could see into him.

"Now go!" he managed to cry out, just as tears started to flow again. He violently pushed against Rick, who had only just managed to catch a breath. This time, the officer silenced his retorts, silenced by the tears that were welling up in his eyes. Another shove and he had forced Rick to the back of the room, to oak double doors that would be his freedom.

The hunter stepped back, forcing distance between them.

"...Just fucking go."

Their eyes met one last time. One message.

_I love you._

_I love you too._

The stare was only broken by the oak doors finally closing as Rick had forced himself to slip through, and it wasn't until he heard the officer run that the hunter finally took in a breath.

It came out in a sigh, a peaceful one. This was the only way he ever wanted to go.

His now steady hands grabbed onto the gun still lightly held by the dead, and he already knew it was empty. He didn't need bullets anymore.

He sucked in a breath and leveled the weapon towards the door. His blue eyes were clear as his heart raced, and the hunter was ready for his final battle. His finger caressed against the trigger, and all he could feel was the sensation of Rick's lips against his own.

It was the only thought he allowed in his mind.

The door smashed open.

* * *

Shadows obscured the figure slipping through bushes and trees, as silent as the night. Nothing will come between him and his mission, there was nothing to go back to.

A bit of moonlight broke through some branches, cascading across dirty wings speckled in blood. It touched against the feathers of the bolt, the tip still glistening red. Bright blue eyes were narrowed with determination, his heart racing for the first time in weeks.

He had finally found them.

They were surrounding a fire, eyes bright, bursting with laughter. How dare they find joy. It gave a small comfort to know that the fires of hell awaited them.

The moon was seducing the crossbow within his hands, caressing every string and metal that it could find. Rough hands adjusted themselves against the handle, and he could still feel the warmth beneath his hand.

The crossbow leveled. The bolt was slid out with caution, careful not to make a sound. Blue eyes gazed across the magnificent creation, and he knew that it would help him succeed. Lips touched against the bolt like so many times before, close to the blood that still crusted on it, blood he couldn't bare to wipe away.

He had been saving this bolt just for this moment.

The hunter situated himself within the thicket, crouching down and finally sliding the bolt back into its place with a click. He caressed the weapon gently as he fell into a now familiar position, and he could nearly feel the hands slowly fixing his position, reminding him to keep his arm up, to keep both eyes open.

The trigger was flirting against his finger, begging to be used.

His gaze locked upon the holder of the barbed bat, in such plain sight that he nearly felt uneasy to how easy this had become. But this was his time to strike. To take revenge on everyone.

To avenge Daryl.

This is for you, my angel.


End file.
